Fall for You
by Stripy Giraffe
Summary: Falling is ten times harder when: a you've already fallen before, with disasterous results. b you don't even know you have fallen. c you're already crippled. d all of the above
1. Part 1

--> _if all the world was perfect, I would only ever want to see your scars_

She was standing in the lab, staring down the lenses of a microscope. He was standing at the window, staring at her. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his presence. She wasn't going to say anything, though. She slightly adjusted the focus on her microscope, and pretended to ignore him. There was an audible sigh before the door swung open. Before she knew it he was standing next to her.

"You knew I was there."

She doesn't dare look away from what she's studying – more to the point, she doesn't dare look at him. She switches slides silently.

"Why didn't you...?"

She turns around and cuts him off. "What's your point, House? What do you expect me to say?"

Her eyes are just the slightest shade darker than they normally are.

"Well, knowing you, I would expect you to tell me exactly what you've worked out about our current patient. Then you'd probably smile cutely, and there's a 75 chance you'd flounce."

Another shade.

"You see me nine to five, five days a week, and you think you know me. Not everything is that simple, House. Not everything is just a problem you can work out in your head."

He doesn't bother replying to that, just turns around and leans on the bench.

"Why are you here, anyway? Haven't you got someone, somewhere, you can go and make fun of?" she says, turning back towards the microscope.

"Yeah," he says. "You." He turns back around and rests his palms on the bench, lying his cane against it.

There's silence, again. Her eyes have probably darkened even more, but he'll never know it, because she's peering purposefully into the microscope.

"Go find someone else," she says eventually. "I'm busy."

He sighs, again, and taps her twice on the back of her head. "Is this thing on?" He asks. "I'm trying to apologise here."

She still doesn't look up, just switches back to her original slide. "You're certainly doing a great job of it."

He puts his fingers under her chin and levered her head away from the microscope, until she was forced to look up at him.

"The whole 'broken', 'fixing' thing…" he began.

"No," she cuts him off yet again. "You were probably right." Her eyes seem to melt back to their original state.

"Probably?"

She looks down a little, to her own eye level. It's easier to speak when she's not being sucked in to those eyes.

"Yes, probably. I probably do want to fix you."

His features soften. His argument seems to have evaporated.

"Not in the way you mean, though," she continues.

That catches his attention. "Oh, now I'm intrigued," he says. "Do tell, do tell."

She smiles, but it's tiny and one-sided. "I'm not talking about your leg. I'm not talking about my husband, either," she says. She's about to turn back towards her work again, but he catches her eye, and she can't look away.

"Do you want to fix me, or don't you?" There's just the tiniest, _tiniest_ touch of urgency in his voice.

She looks at him steadily, trying to resist the pull of his eyes, but failing miserably.

"I want to try."


	2. Part 2

--> _ tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace_

"Just go and do the tests. _Now_." House says through a mouthful of rich, warm coffee. She makes good coffee. But he's never told her that.

Foreman, Cameron and Chase begin to file out through the glass door. She's half-way out when House adds, "Cameron."

She freezes. Turns around. Foreman and Chase are already out of earshot. "Yes?" she asks, her tone slightly more icy than she intended.

"Office," he says bluntly. He finishes his coffee and leaves the mug on the table, before heading in to his office. She sighs and follows him.

He sits down in his chair, she sits down opposite.

There's silence.

She looks around the room, looking for something, anything, that's not him. It doesn't work very well.

"You can't fix me."

The words fall flatly.

"I didn't say I could."

"You said you'd try," he said, leaning his elbows on his desk.

She pauses and thinks for a moment. What can she possibly say to that? She sighs, but he can't hear it.

"So?"

He raises his eyebrows a fraction. "What's your big plan? Are you going to try and saw my leg off? Sorry, someone beat you to it," he says, his voice laced with the usual sarcasm.

"For God's sake, House! I don't _care_ about your leg!" She cries, then looks down. She doesn't want to know how he'd react to that.

As it happens, he doesn't, much.

"Then what _do_ you care about? What are you going to 'try' and fix?"

She looks at him like he's a total and utter idiot. And for the tiniest moment, he feels like one. She reaches out and pokes him in the chest firmly, but not so hard it hurts.

"House," she says, her voice softer this time. "There's something there, I know there is, although most people would argue against it."

He doesn't say a thing.

"That's what I want to fix."

She leaves the room, heading down the hall. Her shoes click on the lino softly. Somehow, it manages to deafen him.

--> _if all the world was smiling, I would only ever want to see your frown_

It's ten past five, and most people have already gone home. She's standing at his desk, sorting through his mail, when he comes through the door.

She looks up at him, slightly nervous. He hasn't spoken a word to her since that morning. He doesn't look like he's going to now, either.

"House… do you want to open th…"

He kisses her.

His hands on her hips pull her closer, and even though she's wearing at least three layers of clothing, his touch still scorches her.

She kisses back.

He pulls the tie from her hair and runs his fingers through her thick, silky locks. And they're kissing, in a hospital, where the walls are mainly glass.

Good thing it's ten past five.


	3. Part 3

--> _no one's ever turned you over, no one's tried, to ever let you down_

She'd spent all night, and most of the morning, worrying about what was going to happen the next day – now, today. It turned out to be a waste of her time, though, as nothing had changed.

House was just as snarky as ever, probably more. And that was most likely a good thing. There weren't any sideways glances, no whispers, no nothing. It nearly drove her insane.

"House," she says, when it's just them in the room. She's getting tired of initiating all the conversations. "I don't…" her voice fades away.

"You don't?" He asks. Surprisingly, that's all. There aren't any witty comments or good calls.

"I don't know where I stand on this," she says eventually, her voice quiet. He's quiet for some time, too.

"My place, tonight?" He says. It's not a question.

She nods, and leaves, to take more tests. There are always so many tests.

--> _when something is broken, and you try to fix it. trying to repair it, anyway you can_

She's sitting on his couch. It's worn and squooshy.

"Drink?" she hears from the kitchen.

"Umm… just water, please?" she calls back. She hears some clinking of glasses until he comes and sits beside her. He hands her a glass of water, and he has a beer for himself.

And they sit.

In silence.

It's not a comfortable silence, it's an awkward, messy one. Which isn't helping a hulluvalot with either of their situations.

"Did it mean something?" he says. She blinks. That's more something _she_'d say, and they both know it.

She thinks before she speaks. "Yeah, I think so," she murmurs. "It did to me, anyway."

She risks a glance in his direction, and, predictably, can't look away. He looks at his hands. She was expecting something like this to happen.

"It didn't mean a thing to you, did it?" she asks, her voice soft, non-accusing. She's still a bit shell-shocked that it had happened in the first place.

"Yes," he says, a little to quickly. "It did."

Their eyes meet then, and she notices that his hand has magically appeared at the back of her skull, pulling her closer. Their both surprised when he's easing his lips gently over hers.

He can taste her strawberry lip-balm, and feel her skin tingling under his fingertips. She's kissing him back, when he takes his lips away, kissing her jaw bone, down to her throat. She trembles next to him, just the slightest bit, as he gently lies her down, falling next to her, taking any pressure off his leg.

They're both tired and their caresses are sweeping and lazy. It feels like a dream when they both drift into sleep.

--> _I want to love you but I don't know if I can_

It's late when House finally opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is that Cameron is asleep, under one of his arms. His eyes double in size for a brief moment until he realizes he has other things to worry about, after taking a glance at the clock on the wall.

"Shit!"

Cameron blinks a few times before writhing beneath him and rolling over.

"Cameron?" He shakes her lightly.

"Hmmumph?"

"It's five to ten."

Her eyes shoot open.

"Holy crap, _what_?" She pushes herself up, ignoring the weight of House's arm, and looks at the clock. "Oh dear."


End file.
